


Glass

by Delphi



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Denial, M/M, Mirrors, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-05
Updated: 2011-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It only works in front of a mirror."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2011 round of Kink Bingo on DW. Kink: "Mirrors/Doubles"

It only works in front of a mirror.

Ezra's room is warm and muffled, and in the low lamplight, the mirror on the side table is glinting. This is where it happened the first time, on a crazy night when they were both riding high on adrenaline and not a little liquor, and it's still the only place where Nathan can bring himself to suspend his conscience. On the road, or in the well-lit familiarity of his practice, he hasn't a prayer of getting hard with that sick, nervous lump in his throat. But on the other side of the looking glass, there lives a Nathan Jackson who is fucking Ezra Standish.

They're on the bed. It's a sturdy piece of furniture that with luck won't call out and get them both (or, more likely, just him) hanged. He's on his back, his head turned away, his eyes on the mirror. In the dark, backward world between the four bars of the gilt frame, there's a pair of unbuttoned pants that look like his own, and a pair of lips that look like Ezra's.

The sound of a wet mouth on bare skin makes his stomach clench like he's falling from a long way up. He tries to ignore it, just like he tries to ignore his own heavy breathing, and the quiet, careful shifting of the bed beneath him, and the smell of Ezra's cologne. He watches the mirror instead, staring in disbelieving fascination, as if it's a window into the next room or the stage for the filthiest play anyone's ever put on—two actors dressed like him and Ezra, or rather, _undressed_ like him and Ezra.

The Nathan in the mirror has one hand curled tightly in the stiff, starched collar of this other Ezra's shirt. The shirt is still tucked in, but half-unbuttoned, baring a wide vee of naked chest. With a pane of glass and crooked angles for defense, Nathan can let himself really _look_.

Smooth skin, suspiciously tanned. Built-up muscles, and nipples that are still red from a bout of rough attention. The vee leads down to another—the shameless gape of Ezra's fly—but this one is obscured, because the other Nathan's hand is already there.

The other Ezra shifts, offering up better access with a haste that might even be funny in some other world. The pair in the mirror end up tangled, leg over leg, curled around each other—one sucking eagerly, the other stroking, pulling hard enough to make Ezra's back arch and a low, heated sound scrape in his throat.

“Shh...” Nathan murmurs. He's not entirely thinking of who might hear them so much as he's pestered by the distraction. “Shh,” he says, the way you would when someone's being too rowdy at a show.

He watches as the slow, ruthless motion of a hand just like his begins to quicken. He can glimpse the flash of ruddy skin between those fingers—the flushed, damp tip that disappears then reappears with every stroke.

In the mirror, Ezra's cheeks are red and his hair is tousled. His cheeks hollow out as he hungrily sucks, and his lips glisten, wet and swollen. In the mirror, Nathan's hand is urgent. He doesn't feel the faint tremor under his palm; instead, perfectly, the sight of the first pearly shot takes him utterly by surprise.

His stomach tightens up again, and the Nathan in the mirror breathes out a silent “ah!” as his hips lift and his fingers flex and his cock pulses.

He stares, transfixed, at the reflection of Ezra's throat bobbing. He doesn't feel the wetness under his fingers—only sees it from the corner of his eye as that other Nathan rubs the mess of semen into Ezra's smooth skin, and he shivers as Ezra's tender throat bobs again and again, that handsome mouth greedy for one more taste.

He shivers again, and he sighs.

The room comes back to him slowly. His heartbeat comes first, echoing heavily in his ears, and then comes the sound of Ezra's breathing, and the soft, lewd smack as Ezra's mouth lets his cock slip, and the faint stickiness of drying semen on his fingers.

The world on the other side of the mirror goes hazy in turn as Nathan's eyelids grow heavy. The pair in the mirror lie silently, without the lingering guilt of gulped-down breathing. Through half-lidded eyes, Nathan watches as the other Ezra looks over that other Nathan. Ezra's expression is wound up tight, and the flush on his cheeks is receding. Then the Ezra in the mirror looks at him, straight on with green eyes as bright as glass.

For a moment, he seems so real that Nathan could nearly reach out and touch him.


End file.
